Beauty is not an absolute. It is not an image or a tangible definition. Beauty is emotion, seizing our most basic senses in an attempt to understand it. We seek to possess it, but we cannot as we can only be possessed by it.
It sometimes blushes our skin with the delicate scent of lavender. It can make us drool with unabashed desire to dance with it seductively under the strobe light of passion. It can flay layers of our soul we did not know existed when it chooses to abandon us.
Beauty makes us invincible in the most vulnerable of actions. It allows us to fly in the depths of the ocean, breathless and breathing, suffocating and bursting. It quiets the panic of the spikes in our pulse and it screams in the silent beats of our own heart rhythms. It tangles us in bed sheets perfumed with raw need. It bruises our lips with the heavy hand of mystery.
Beauty is savage. Savagely beautiful.